


Blue Prompt - A Fluffy Castiel Drabble

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:53:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Fluffy drabble based on the item/object prompt: Blue





	

Some people take a long and tortuous fall – rocky, bruising, full of sharp edges leaving you scarred, or worse, broken when you hit bottom. Others take the winding road – sure, the view is beautiful, packed with scenic smiling photo opportunities - but watch out for the sudden twists and turns, and be leery of the dead ends. For you, one look is all it took - a single lingering gaze into shimmering cobalt-blue eyes, and you fell within the narrow expanse between two heartbeats. It sounds simple. Like everything else about your life, it’s not.

“We owe you one,” Dean Winchester dragged you into a warm, flannel clad, slightly blood-stained, embrace.

“One?” You mumbled against his shoulder, smirking.

“Okay, like two or three, but who’s counting?” He gave you a playful jostle, ruffling your hair, reluctantly releasing you, a mixture of sincerity and worry flooding his features, “seriously Y/N, one call and we’re here. Right Sammy?” He side-stepped, peering over his shoulder to his brother.

“Right,” Sam bobbed his head in agreement, opening his arms wide, “anything you need.”

“I know,” you bounced forward, clasping your arms around his tall frame, the corners of your mouth curving up into a genuine smile, “thanks guys.” They might be two of the biggest, goofiest, most reckless, luckiest pain in the ass hunters you’d ever crossed paths with on their best days, but you considered yourself fortunate for having done so. “Now don’t go dying on me,” you furrowed your brow sternly, wagging a finger at each of the brothers in turn, “you know, again.”

“Yeah,” Sam snorted, “deal.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Dean held up his hands with a jovial wink, “not a good time.”

A noise like a crisp linen sail catching a strong breeze soared past your ears - a voice edged in gravel vibrating you to the core, “Hello Sam, Dean.”

Hand instinctively reaching for your gun, you spun around to find a ruggedly handsome, dark-haired, wind-blown, trench coat clad man in possession of the most stunning set of blue eyes you’d ever seen standing a few feet behind you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he manifested out of thin air.

“Cas,” Dean greeted the man with familiarity and put a calming hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, it’s okay, this is Castiel. Cas, this is our friend Y/N.”

Those intense blue eyes focused on yours, seeming not to gauge your mere reaction to his presence, but to in fact contemplate the very essence of your existence. It felt like being put under a microscope – a pleasant, ticklish, exciting sort of scrutiny at a cellular, no, molecular, no, spiritual level. And seeing you stripped bare to the soul – those blue eyes did not avert their observation of what was found therein, reflecting an unexpected awe. That was the precise moment you fell.

“He’s an angel,” gripping your shoulder tighter, Dean’s voice broke the trance, “who you would think by now would have learned that staring is rude, even if the girl’s gorgeous.”

You blinked.

In the millisecond it took for your eyelids to press together the blue eyes fell from yours, rolling up, fettered with impatience.

“Angel?” You croaked - it was more of a statement than an actual question. Your internal dialogue playing out as something along the lines of: dammit, of course he’s an angel, why is this my life? The instinct to confront that which you didn’t fully understand with snarky comments kicked in, “Well that’s a new one.”

“Actually, my father created angels billions of years before humanity,” Cas replied matter-of-factly, setting his jaw hard, brushing past you, coat billowing purposefully, taking several strides toward the Impala, “Dean, there is no time for explanation. I require your assistance and we must leave now if we are to get there by car. I will explain on the way.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Dean smiled warmly at you and shrugged apologetically for the curt departure, jogging to catch up with the angel.

“Take care of yourself Y/N,” Sam wrapped his arm across your shoulders, giving you a parting squeeze and a towering kiss on top of your head.

“You too,” you waved him off, unable to take your attention off the angel.

Opening the rear door, poised to climb into the seat, Cas stole a final wondering glance back at you.

You waved again, hand falling when you met his stare, fingers folding into your palm, a wistful smile tracing your lips.

Nodding once, his features softened almost imperceptibly. Then he was gone - the Impala and your heart speeding noisily down the gravel bypass toward the highway.

Thanks to the heavenly angel, the months to follow were utter hell. This was not directly in relation to his and the Winchesters part in the world nearly ending again (this is not to imply that the whole world ending thing wasn’t annoyingly inconvenient as per usual – it was), and more in part due to those damned stunning blue eyes haunting you. You’d never noticed how much blue was in the world before that fateful day, and now you couldn’t escape it, couldn’t escape him. The bright blue sky brought the angel’s name bubbling to your lips like prayer. The seaside rest stop, churning waters glinting blue and white, where you’d wiled an entire day away lost in reverie about Castiel, angel of the lord. And you didn’t exactly try to avoid the torment, reflexively purchasing a pair of perfectly blue mittens traveling through the snowy mountains of Montana, incandescent blue pearl earrings driving up the coast of California, a dyed blue woolen sweater hiking in the dense forests of Washington state. Grinding case after case, you chased the memory of the angel across the country and back. You wanted, rather, needed to be seen as only his angelic blue eyes could see you. Well that, and more - and you’d always had a rather vivid imagination.

You were hiding from a particularly stellar blue sky in a kitschy motel in Utah, hunched over a tiny table strewn with news clippings you thought might lead to the whereabouts of a Werewolf pack, when you heard a familiar sound. Familiar not in the sense that you’d heard it a million times – familiar in the sense that you recognized it instantly for want of hearing it at all.

“Hello Y/N,” Cas spoke softly, endeavoring not to surprise you.

Actually startling you would have been quite the feat, considering he’d been constantly in the forefront of your thoughts for months. “Castiel,” you regarded him with relief - his eyes an impossibly deeper hue of blue than you remembered. You wondered why he was here now, if the Winchesters were with him, if they needed your help.

“I am alone,” he stated in answer to your thought, head aslant.

He’d managed to surprise you after all, your eyes widened, “You heard that?”

“Yes,” he nodded, hesitating a moment, breaking eye contact, tone one of bashful confession, “I have found it quite impossible to ignore you.”

The butterflies in your stomach took flight. You stood up from the table, heart sprinting faster as the colorful array of everything you’d thought about the angel, about doing to and with the angel, from the day you met until a moment ago raced through your brain. Light-headed, you pressed a palm to the surface of the table to steady yourself.

Cas caught you by the elbow, blue eyes swirling with concern.

“I’m alright, I just…,” you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, opening them again to search his face, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He squinted back at you, perplexed.

“For thinking about you?” You offered with a weak smile. You weren’t really sorry at all. You didn’t have a clue as to why you were apologizing.

“If that is an offense, then I must also apologize,” a shy smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

You gazed steadily into his darkening blue eyes, silently praying that he would just kiss you already.


End file.
